


every flavour special

by writing_to_music



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baking, But not alcoholism, Cupcake Shop, Drinking, Fluff, Food, Kinda, Los Angeles, Peer Pressure, Swearing, Youtuber - Freeform, coffee shop AU, i mean it's a, phil bakes, sunshiny characters, they make videos, things get happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-29 03:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12622024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_to_music/pseuds/writing_to_music
Summary: Phil works in an LA cupcake shop, dreaming up new flavours every day, and making YouTube videos with his friend of two years, Dan. But when the departure of half the shop staff and the constant scrutiny of their fanbase puts Dan and Phil under pressure, can their friendship handle it? Cupcakes and cameos feature in this bitter-sweet study of peer pressure and different kinds of love.





	every flavour special

every flavour special

A/N: This was originally supposed to be written for the Phandom Big Bang, but due to my overestimation of the final word count, I dropped out. I still wanted to finish the fic, so I tried writing in a new style and dropped the word count estimate to 8k, and this is the result, which I’m very pleased with.

I hope you like it, but please tell me if you don’t – I value feedback in all its forms. I own nothing, as always.

For Shawna and Isabel, my inspiration, and Makenzie and Mary, my motivation.

It was the pun of a name that attracted Phil first, and the people that made him stay.

He was a friend of a new acquaintance, a daunting puzzle quickly cracked.

There was no real starting point, he thought, looking back. Memories blurred in his mind as tears blurred in his eyes, moments coming back to him then to stare him in the face.

He regretted so many things, and had pride for so many more, but he had to go through everything again, if he ever wanted to make things right.

~~^~~

Phil’s first impression of Ro was of the eye in the middle of a massive hurricane. She ran places, full of energy, while still being entirely in her element. Batter, frosting and sprinkles were wiped on her apron and smeared on her face from enthusiastic mixing.

Ro - whose full name was Rosanna, but that was a mouthful – manned the cash register with practiced speed, and made Phil laugh with her wacky apron. Though the shop sold nothing but cupcakes and coffee, there was a cookie on the front of her apron.

“It reminds me of home,” she explained. “Cupcakes, especially those yummy gourmet ones like we sell here, are, like, big-city? Cookies are what you’d make with your family and friends!”

Phil accepted that. It was crazy to have a cookie mascot for a cupcake shop, but she made a lot of sense. He’d always attracted crazy people.

Plus, he’d only gone in there because of the name, anyway. He was looking for a job at the time, something in a shop to tide him over until he could get an editing job in a movie studio, like he’d always wanted to. He had stopped for a break in this shop, because it was named The Cupcakery, and Phil appreciated the pun.

~~^~~

Looking back on his first week at The Cupcakery, Phil thought it a massive blur. Over and over, he protested that he’d never baked before in his life, and wouldn’t it be better if he just worked at the cash register and made coffee? Those were things he knew how to do.

Besides, the cupcakes served weren’t just cupcakes – they were works of art. The Cupcakery wasn’t an elite cupcake bakery, but it was fairly well-known, and they’d always had high standards for the looks of the cupcakes as well as the taste. Even basic vanilla cakes had white fondant flowers - decorated with edible luster dust for sparkle - and specks of vanilla bean in the icing. Phil had kind of always wanted to keep one on a mantelpiece somewhere, and that wasn’t even counting the more decorative cupcakes, like the cartoon- or video game- themed ones.

But no – Ro had whisked him into an apron, sent Thomas and Dodie, the other employees, out to work at the front, and was teaching him to use an electric mixer before another complaint could come out of his mouth.

~~^~~

“Phil! Phil, get in here!”

Phil had raced into the back room, the ends of his plain white apron strings flying out behind him. He had only been there for a week or two, so he didn’t have his pale blue, cookie mascot-adorned shop apron yet.

“What’s happening?”

“We need, uh, a deciding vote, and Ro-“ Thomas trailed off.

“Ro refused to get involved,” Dodie said with a smile. “Like she always does.”

Phil was game. “A deciding vote on what?”

They had had an argument over which cupcake idea should be developed into this week’s special. Thomas’ was, as it always was after that, big, bright, colourful, and usually based around one cartoon or another, always a hit with the customers. Dodie’s ideas were usually simple or understated, classy, but amazing – like her.

Phil voted for Dodie’s, because she had a cupcake design based around green tea, and amongst Thomas’ cries of “it’s no fair, you British people and your tea!” they had reminded him of how much he liked tea as well. Phil, for the first time, took part then in their “weekly special” design.

While it was surprising that Dodie had dedicated a song to him for picking her design – Phil hadn’t known that she was a musical artist – it wasn’t surprising that after that, they’d all gotten on like a house on fire.

~~^~~

But Dan – oh god, just thinking about him hurt right now – Dan, well, Phil hadn’t met him until he’d finally got his apron. He was still wearing it, even now. Actually, literally, right now. As he huddled in a closet mostly used for spare bakeware and cleaning supplies, trying to make sense of what had gone on and how to fix it, he still wore his apron.

Phil was no judge of fashion, but it was a nice apron. Customers had told him that the colour matched his eyes. It had been washed so often, to remove the various food-related stains, that the crisp feel of new cotton material had softened and melded to the shape of his body, and the bright, pigmented blue color had faded into pale blue, like the LA sky above the quieter parts of the city.

He supposed the reason why it had lasted so long was that it was handmade.

~~^~~

They’d put Phil on cash duty one day. After nearly a month of hard work under Ro’s training, he was making passable cupcakes, and they’d all booted him out to the front to make coffee and tea and to sell the cupcakes. Being as clumsy as he was, Phil knew he was going to end up dropping something eventually. Of course, they had said that he needed the experience, working out front – but Ro had needed to apologize to the shop for the loud clanging noise caused by Phil’s butterfingers dropping that pan earlier. So, cash it was.

He felt a bit out of place in his mostly-white apron, when Ro, Thomas and Dodie all had their own shop ones. Thomas, in an attempt to practice what he called “adulting skills”, had awkwardly stitched Phil’s name on the front, but it was the thought that counted, really.

It was a quiet day, only a few of their regulars sitting in the rather small shop. The Los Angeles sunlight streamed in through the windows, making the shop counter and display cases sparkle. The pale yellow and blue interior had never seemed cozier, but he was grateful for American air conditioning. Phil noticed that a few strings of fairy lights – “twinkle lights”, they called them here – were strung along the tops of the walls, and smiled. Dodie.

As there was nobody needing a cupcake just then, Phil had bent down next to the display case, organizing some of the cupcake rows to push the day-old ones to the front and the newer to the back. Nothing would be wasted that way, but if they got older than one day, they were fair game for the employees. Phil was aware that he should probably exercise at some point, working in a cupcake shop as he did.

He was so intent on the task that when the shop bell above the door rang, he didn’t hear it. Three people approached the counter, one clearing his throat, and Phil had hit his head on the display case in surprise.

“You okay, love?” said one of the people, a woman with pink hair, looking concerned.

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” Phil said, shaking his head and getting up. “What can I get for you?”

They had just looked ordinary at the time. The guy who had cleared his throat was short, maybe five foot six, and stood slightly bouncing on his heels, a grin on his face. His hair was in a quiff and dyed bright silver. It suited him, he was obviously from LA.

The woman with pink hair had looked concerned, but also like she might be laughing at him, in a good way. She looked like a lot of fun – someone you could be real friends with. Phil also noted her British accent.

But the other guy, the last of the three – he was tall, maybe Phil’s height, and he looked like Phil as well. He had dark brown hair, curling from the heat, and he wore all black despite having just been out in the sun. He had looked interesting, to say the least, at least to Phil.

Ro had walked out of the swinging kitchen doors just then, and had immediately broken into a huge grin when she saw them.

“Hey, Tyler, Louise, Dan!” she said happily. “Long time no see!”

They all hugged her in turn - Tyler’s enthusiastic, Louise’s warm, Dan’s awkward – then turned to Phil, Louise handing him a bag.

“What’s this – an apron!” Phil exclaimed. It was perfect. Smooth, fitted, with his name neatly stitched on and the cookie mascot appliqué looking smiley. Just like the others’.

Ro had explained it. Louise made shop aprons for every new employee, and she used this as her opportunity to buy cupcakes for her family and friends. She and Tyler lived further away in the city, so they could only come every now and then.

“No excuses for you, Dan,” Ro had said, pointing her finger at him. “You just live right across the street! Come hang out with us sometime!”

Dan had mumbled something about being busy, but he had obviously enjoyed getting told off by Ro. He couldn’t have helped it – Ro was so tiny compared to him, it was impossible for her to sound scary.

~~^~~

Looking back, it was inevitable that they’d hit it off. Phil hadn’t known what made Dan start coming into the store more often. After they’d first met, he started bringing coffees to the four of them, slipping into the shop right before seven, when they closed. He worked as a barista at the Starbucks down the street, which was one of their biggest competitors, but did get him a crazy discount on coffee.

The competition had never been a problem. The shop did very well, well enough to not really have anyone steal their business. Phil loved getting to know the regulars – the sweet Italian fashionista who dragged along her boyfriend occasionally, a few ex-employees of the shop, the adorable child-like singer guy who Phil towered over.

Having a successful bakery, however, meant that it was busy. The hours flew by, as they sold cupcake after cupcake, box after box. There was always something to do, and Phil barely got time to eat throughout the day. When Dan started bringing coffee, he was grateful.

Of course, Dan had said it was to see Ro, everybody loved her. And that was true, they did – but Dan didn’t end up talking to Ro, or Dodie, or Thomas. He talked to Phil.

They’d spent ages after the shop closed, Dan trailing after Phil while they chatted and eventually helping him wipe down the counters and drape cloths over the display cases. Phil had thought that maybe he should feel awkward, like he usually did with new people, but it was as if they’d already known each other for years.

Phil had come to LA to work in a movie studio, and so had Dan – but Dan wanted to be on the stage, while Phil preferred behind-the-scenes. Neither was achieving their dreams thus far, but they bonded over a shared one. LA was full of people with this goal, and working in an adorable cupcake shop was not the worst thing that could happen instead, at all.

Phil realized after too long that Dan’s daily coffee visits were just becoming an excuse to talk to him.

~~^~~

He’d gone over to Dan’s house one night, when Ro had to chase them out of the bakery, because it was getting so late.

“Thomas and Dodie already went up to their apartments!” she’d scolded, adding, “you should get a move on, you do have to be here tomorrow morning, Phil.”

“Don’t you live above the shop as well?” Dan had asked, Phil shaking his head. He’d lived a couple streets away – not a bad walk, but horrible in the heat.

“Jesus Christ, it’s like a fricking oven out here,” Dan sighed as they’d stepped out of the shop.

“LA amazes me. At nine o’clock at night – ugh,” Phil agreed.

“Come round to mine for a bit,” Dan had suggested, while Phil looked at him. He’d put up his hands. “Whoa, not that, I have the new Crash Bandicoot game!”

Phil had agreed, and they’d walked across the street. The game was excellent, and when Dan’s offhand suggestion to film themselves playing had come up, he hadn’t questioned it.

He’d fallen asleep at some point, and the next morning his phone blared wake-up alarms into his ear while he’d lay passed out on Dan’s couch, controller digging into his side, and a blanket he didn’t remember having tucked around him.

There hadn’t been any time to shower or run home for clothes, so he’d run across to the bakery, thrown on his apron, and apologized to Ro for the lateness. She’d winked at him, said “dude, you really stink,” and set him to work in the back all day.

Phil had worried so much about whether it was going to be weird, since he hadn’t said goodbye to Dan or anything – but coffees showed up at just past 7pm, nothing weird was said about the entire night, and the Crash Bandicoot footage had eventually become the first unofficial footage for their YouTube channel, Dan and Phil.

~~^~~

And then fast forward two years, Phil thought to himself. Like a montage in a romantic comedy, except, well, not. Two amazing years where everything was imperfectly perfect in a pastel town with everything having meaning and everyone perfectly pleasant.

Okay, that was a bit sarcastic, he was beginning to sound like Dan – ouch – but it was pretty true, even the rom-com bit.

Dan and Phil’s channel had done nothing but grown. They filmed separate videos by themselves to put on the main channel, but mostly collabs and gaming, as it was incredibly fun to explore the dynamic between them on-camera.

Eventually, the trekking between apartments and the shop had been too much, and Phil had moved into Dan’s apartment to make things easier, and save on rent. It was a tight fit for sure, but it meant that their videos were easier to make, and so there were more of them.

Dan got to be in front of a camera, like he’d wanted, and Phil edited, while each played the other’s role. It was the perfect duo. They were the perfect duo.

Their audience was incredibly supportive and loving, to the point of unhealthy obsession with some people, but every fandom had people like that. While growing to be just under one million subscribers, they were vocal fans, loudly spreading fanfiction, fan art, and fan messages all over the Internet.

Neither of them minded the shipping. It was a part of fan culture to ship people together, and while there was always a lot of relationship speculation among the fans, it wasn’t anything more than speculation and conspiracy theories, foil-hat stuff.

For every comment they read together saying “theyre so cute 2gether! phan is real!” there was a laugh at the spelling, maybe a shake of the head about the obvious oblivion of the commenter.

Truly, a classic case of “it was fine until it wasn’t”.

~~^~~

“Hello, Dan and Phil Gaming mixers!” Phil had greeted the camera.

“Mixers? How – how is that even relevant?” Dan had groaned, switching his attention to Phil.

“Well, Dil will be a master mixologist soon,” Phil had offered while Dan rolled his eyes.

“Fair enough. Welcome back to the Sims 4, where our Sim Dil makes drinks for a living, and proves that once again, we live vicariously through everything that he does.”

They’d wrapped up the video half an hour later, recapping the antics of the Howlter family to bring it to a satisfying (at least it seemed) conclusion.

“Goodbye,” Phil had started to say, before Dan reached over and grabbed his arm.

“No, not yet! We’re almost at a million subscribers, remember?”

“Oh yeah! Well, next week’s video will be a Reading Your Comments, the first ever!”

“We should be at a million by then. Tell your friends, click subscribe, get hyped!”

“Super-hyped.”

“Mega-hyped.”

“Ultra-hyped.”

“I should cut all of this out.”

“Agreed. Goodbye!”

~~^~~

Phil’s stomach hurt. It had started like a normal day, which was scary. Most catastrophic days start normal. He’d woken up early, gotten dressed quietly so he wouldn’t wake Dan, had two – or was it three? – coffees, and crossed the street to the shop.

The back door to the building wasn’t locked after 6am, a fact only the employees knew, so he was able to slip inside, preoccupied with thinking about the morning tasks. He uncovered the display cases, opened the window blinds and tied his apron before stepping into the back room.

Ro, Dodie and Thomas were all doing the little things that they always did in the mornings – mixing plain vanilla and chocolate batter to add things to later, carefully scraping up icing decals from the previous night’s piping.

And when he entered with a cheery “hey guys”, they all stopped what they were doing, and sat down to tell him what Ro had known since the night before.

Thomas and Dodie were leaving the bakery.

Thomas had landed a major role in a play, and an agent who would help him figure things out from there. The agent was the turning point – Thomas had acted in smaller things before, but this was the one. He had a huge chance at stardom, and he couldn’t work for them anymore.

Dodie had a record deal, the news of which had prompted Phil to hug her. She was producing an EP, it was very hush-hush, but she wanted to tell them first. She’d worked so hard, and finally, LA was giving her the opportunity of her lifetime.

They’d said “I love this place” and “I love you guys” and “I don’t want to leave” and “this is a bad time for us both to leave”. Heartfelt words, but meaningless all the same.

They’d made up their minds. Phil and Ro hadn’t known how long they’d hid this, big secrets in the works, large and exciting.

Ro had given them one last week to work, told them they could keep their aprons, hugged everybody – even Phil, although he had to bend down quite a lot – and talked about a party for them going away. She smelled like sprinkles and raspberry shampoo, and only Phil noticed the vacant, sad look in her eyes that came with being in this situation far too often.

~~^~~

“Hello internet!”

“Hey guys!”

“And welcome to the first ever Reading Your Comments video!”

“Ugh, Phil, that was creepy, like the twins from The Shining, let’s not do that again.”

Phil giggled. “Okay. Welcome!”

“We’re YouTubers, we really should have done this already, at least a hundred times,” Dan had commented.

“I know, right? Well, I mean, PINOF counts.”

“Yeah, kind of,” Dan had acknowledged, remembering the Phil Is Not On Fire series, aptly named after Dan’s failed but funny teenage username. “But we made up half of those questions anyway.”

“We are proper YouTubers then,” Phil had deadpanned. “Let’s get to it!”

“Alrighty, well, here’s one, ‘are you guys dating?’ Starting off with the big questions,” joked Dan.

“Nope!” Phil had said. “Next question, ‘when’s the next Sims video?’ Next week, hopefully.”

“Oh, look, Phil, here’s four in a row,” Dan had said, sounding off. “And the fifth one’s ‘are you in love?’ Honestly.”

It could have been Phil’s imagination, looking back, but Dan had sounded really, really odd. Almost – nervous. Why would he have been nervous? Phil didn’t want to think about it, he didn’t, but he had to, that’s why he was here.

Phil had turned to Dan. “We’re editing these out, right?”

“Yeah,” Dan had said, slowly. “I guess so.”

“Okay, yeah, we are.” Phil shifted, tried to get some more energy for this take, and scrolled down his phone. “’What’s the weekly special?’ Nice try! It’s top secret!”

“Tell them where they can find out the other weekly specials, Phil,” Dan had mocked cheerfully.

Phil had been so relieved Dan was back to normal that he’d talked quickly, with a bright, cheery smile, and for way too long, about The Cupcakery’s official website, where you could see a gallery of all their creations, and even place orders if you lived in LA!

Afterwards, with a few more harmless, non-dating-related questions answered, they’d finished the video and taken down the equipment in silence. The normal feeling Dan had projected throughout the video had completely dissipated.

Phil had tried to talk. He knew, every memory that he had of any sort of awkwardness had been resolved by talking it out, but he couldn’t. He should’ve, but he couldn’t.

“I’ve got to go,” he’d blurted eventually, and pretending not to notice Dan getting up from his laptop, he’d run out the door, to the bakery where he could help. That had been his one place where he could lose himself in his work, and forget about the unwelcome, awkward feeling.

~~^~~

During Thomas and Dodie’s last week with the bakery, the reality of what was happening took its time to settle in.

Phil would walk into the kitchen, bright and cheerful, ready to question Dodie, and then abruptly remember that Dodie wouldn’t actually know what they were doing next week for the special, and walk right back out. He knew he would probably be figuring it out on his own, because Ro was trying to find a replacement.

Watching the two on cash duty, explaining to the regulars where they were going, was heartbreaking. Phil couldn’t imagine working in the shop without Thomas and Dodie. Thomas had been the one to first put together the strawberry lemonade cupcake they’d sold for a year, after the weeklong trial had become so popular, the new batches sold out within an hour. Dodie had figured out how to make liquid chocolate into edible decoration shapes, and she’d continued to make them while the others had spent a month trying to get it right.

There were so many memories he could pull from his mind of the four of them, all together, doing so many things to make that bakery what it was that day. It was, although it sounded cheesy, like losing a part of his family. He’d spent so much time at the bakery, and they were so much more than his coworkers.

Ro had been less emotional. She was placing ads online, and typing up new details on an old flyer. She was as sad as Phil, but in a more resigned way. Phil hadn’t realized how many times Ro had done this before, hiring new people and training them once the older employees left. It made him worry that Ro was just holding out for him as well, and how sad he would feel when he finally had to leave.

The date for Thomas and Dodie’s going-away party was set for a week after they finally left, Ro telling them to bring their friends as they took off their aprons and folded them to bring home.

~~^~~

He’d asked Ro, later in the kitchen, what he’d done to make her hire him so fast.

“You knew a good cupcake when you tasted one,” Ro said, all seriousness. “Your eyes rolled back when you had that Harley Quinn theme one.”

“Seriously?”

“Well, and Anna had quit a week before and I desperately needed people. Thomas, Dodie and I couldn’t do it all ourselves.”

“That must have been crazy!”

“Oh, it was. We didn’t have a cash person, remember? When you walked in, I had to run from the back.”

They’d shared a laugh, the day seeming so far away.

“Organized chaos,” Ro smiled, “but still definitely chaos.”

~~^~~

They had desperately needed people again, after Thomas and Dodie left for good. Phil remembered the rushing around, the frantic, helpless feeling when there’s just too much work for two people to do. The “ring for service” bell they’d placed out by the cash was chiming relentlessly, by annoyed people who were running late but still had to get their cupcakes.

Mornings and evenings became as busy as the days, and they had to choose on the spot what was getting done and what was not. Some days, the chocolate cupcakes went without icing decals, and the tables were dusty. They were desperately slipping, too busy to stop and breathe and eat and laugh and cry.

Phil had never been more grateful to live across the road, because a walk was the last thing he wanted at 2am. He didn’t see Dan for that entire week, at all, except when he’d stopped by to deliver coffee to Phil at closing. Ro didn’t want it – she was worse, more stressed, than Phil. Phil couldn’t even talk to Dan mostly, just a look and a “thank you” and back to the next day’s order.

After a week of madness, neither Phil nor Ro could take it anymore, although Ro spent every spare minute trying to find someone, anyone, to take a temporary position. Their lives and patience levels ran thinner than they ever had before, but Phil would not quit the bakery, even then. He had been there for almost two years exactly, and he would not give in.

They had closed early on Saturday, because of a party. The party.

~~^~~

For once that week, everything was perfect again. The tables and counter shone while the fairy lights twinkled merrily, creating the wonderful, comforting atmosphere inside. The blinds were pulled down and the lighting was soft – just right for a goodbye party.

The people arrived quickly. When Ro had composed the invitations, she’d said “bring your friends”, and a lot of people, especially Tyler and Louise, had taken her up on the offer. There were people from all over LA, people that could vaguely pick out Thomas and Dodie in the crowd to offer congratulations, but also could just appreciate the value of free cupcakes.

Phil and Ro had worked together all that day, running out for special ingredients their delivery trucks didn’t bring, making up platters and stands, hundreds of mini cupcakes to ice. Ro kept repeating “we’re doing a party, we’re doing it right,” like some sort of mantra.

Thomas and Dodie had received hugs all around again, before the majority of the people showed up. They talked excitedly about the developments in their new jobs – Dodie was definitely getting six tracks on her EP, and maybe if it did well, another one next year – they were flying Thomas out to NYC to see a casting director. The air swirled with talk, enthusiastic chatter filling up the space all around them.

Phil didn’t like parties much, but this one was okay. He’d found Dan when he slipped in, fashionably late and staying close to the walls, practically displaying a “don’t talk to me” attitude.

When the people started pouring in, around midnight, Phil had brought out all the cupcakes they’d made, worked his way through the overcrowded bakery, and squeezed himself into a seat in the main area with Dan.

And maybe it was all the alcohol they were drinking. Somebody had brought a lot of it, and was playing bartender behind the counter. Phil wanted to tell them not to mess with the cupcakes there, but his head was fuzzy and nothing came out.

Dan had nearly been giggling in his seat. He’d had so much more than Phil, just to cope with all the people and the social pressure to stay, and Phil guessed that Dan being a happy drunk was better than Dan being a sad drunk.

The party got a lot more fun after the music started. Tyler’s YouTuber friends started vlogging, and Phil found himself and Dan on the dance floor, their chairs shoved aside.

“Hey! They, um, those two people, yeah they just hit a million subscribers!” somebody had yelled, it was definitely one of the YouTuber friends. Phil didn’t know his name, but his voice carried. Every social media person in the building clapped at them, and Phil flushed. Dan grinned, too tipsy to care.

“Dare you to kiss!” yelled the loudmouth. “All your fans want it!”

No, said all of Phil’s brain, warning signals flashing. It wasn’t like that, he didn’t know.

But they’d all started cheering, and shouting, and oh god if they kept that up the cops would be called, and it was so loud and hot and it wasn’t cozy anymore and Phil leaned forward to shut them up, shut them all up.

The kiss, if you could call it that, hadn’t lasted for more than a moment. Dan froze, and Phil froze, and the world tilted sickeningly, and even through the drunken haze Phil knew that he had thoroughly fucked up.

The cheering quieted, and everybody left soon after that. Stumbling across streets and into cabs, just another party, just another Saturday night, to most. Phil knew he couldn’t make it home, so he curled up in the office, finally able to breathe and sleep away the haze.

Too many cameras had been going, too many at once. The kiss was all over the Internet by the next morning.

~~^~~

He was so stupid.

Phil clenched his fists, short nails leaving angry red indents in his palms. He tried to breathe, in and out, count to four, but the sheer idiocy of what happened at the party was making him so upset he couldn’t breathe.

“What if?” is a question asked to the universe, cast out into the endless void of our own minds, by anyone who’s ever done something they truly regret. It holds power over us, made stronger by how much we go back to it.

What if he hadn’t had so much to drink?

What if he had left when he started to feel uncomfortable?

What if he had talked to Dan, after it all happened, or apologized to him at least before hiding in a back room?

It all came down to peer pressure, if he just hadn’t drank so much he’d have told them all to shut up, but his mind twisted, making their request plausible, making even the act of thought a struggle.

Even while trying to think clearly, the memories made Phil angry, and were doing awful things to his throat. His eyes watered, the view of shelves in front of him shifting and blurring.

He was mad, mad at himself for doing it, at Dan for not leaning away, at Ro for telling people to bring their friends, at Thomas and Dodie for leaving. Why did they have to leave? Wasn’t the bakery good enough for them? Why did they have to go, and make Phil and Ro do everything themselves, at short notice?

Those horrible, horrible people, repeating in a mockery of what their fans told them to do. It was so different then just brushing off things from the comments section. It was so much more infuriating to know that you’ve given in, in real life.

Phil angrily brushed the tears from his eyes, wondering why there were so many of them.

~~^~~

He’d gone back to the apartment the next morning. He hadn’t remembered what had happened the night before, nothing after that fourth or fifth drink, the bartender laughing at his slurring but good-naturedly giving him another one. He’d remembered heat and swirling and people all around him, the air smelling like sugar and liquor.

“Hey Dan,” he’d chirped, albeit a little groggily, letting himself into the apartment. “I’ve got this wicked hangover-“

Dan had bolted to his feet when Phil entered, skin pale.

“Do you not have any clue of what happened last night?” he’d demanded.

“No, nothing strange,” Phil had said nervously, stopped in his tracks. “We went to the party, and I gave everyone cupcakes, and there were all these loud people and I had a bunch to drink.”

Phil went white.

“Oh no,” he’d said.

“Oh – fucking – yes,” Dan had said. His eyes, looking closer, were red-rimmed and splotchy.

Phil had sank into a chair, feeling like he was choking. He couldn’t stop looking at Dan’s lips.

“Shit,” he’d breathed, which was weird in itself – Phil rarely swore.

Dan was tense, on edge, angry. “We’ve got to explain this, we can’t just – just wave this off, it’s all over Tumblr, the original’s got 400, 000 reblogs.”

“We could make a video,” Phil had suggested quickly.

Neither had wanted to say the word “kiss”, or talk to each other about it, like normal human beings – but neither had been rational, and Phil at least was more scared than he’d ever been in his life. It felt like the floor had dropped out from under him.

“Hey guys.”

“Hello internet.”

“We need to talk about something – ugh, that sounds like we’re breaking up, uh, not with each other, just with like the Internet,”

“Stop it! They’ve all seen the fucking video!”

“So, um, yeah, what we wanted to say is that-“

Phil had not known what they wanted to say. A desperate glance at Dan revealed nothing, so he’d panicked.

“It was absolutely nothing! The video is nothing!”

“Really?” Dan had snapped, standing up. “Nothing? You have got to be kidding me. Of course it’s not nothing, oh my god, I can’t do this right now.”

“I didn’t know what to say, Dan! What was it then!”

“I – I – I don’t know!” Dan had spluttered. “But it wasn’t nothing! It wasn’t even an accident, the video shows that very clearly!”

Phil was speechless, hurt, guilt flooding him again.

“I can’t, can’t be here right now,” Dan muttered. He’d almost said something else to Phil, but he’d snapped his mouth shut and nearly ran out of the room.

Phil had sat there, frozen, as the very audible sound of the front door slamming shut had resonated throughout the entire apartment, a chill creeping in, though it had been so hot outside.

~~^~~

The tears stopped, after a little while. Phil knew his skin, only made paler by constantly being indoors, was probably red and blotchy, but he didn’t care. His head spun.

Crying was supposed to be therapeutic, right? Like that one time they’d screamed into a pillow for PINOF? He hadn’t had much stressing him out then, so he’d laughed at Dan, who hadn’t stopped screaming into the pillow for at least ten minutes.

Thinking about Dan made him hurt. Phil didn’t know what he would do, if Dan actually loved him, or wanted a relationship with him. His mind raced through all of the little moments he’d never picked up on, more than any proof blog could show.

Dan had come to the shop to talk to Phil at the start, he’d spent insane amounts of money on coffees just for them, he’d allowed Phil into his own apartment – were those just things a friend would do? Was he being paranoid?

Phil thought about leaving. It would be easy, well, not really easy, but simpler than facing Dan again, after that horrible day.

He could calmly step out of the cupboard and tell Ro that he wanted to quit. She’d be hurt, but she’d understand, especially because she’d seen what had happened at the party. He would sign some papers, suffer through a last day of work, pack his bags and go back to England.

What had he accomplished here anyway? He hadn’t started work in a movie studio as an editor. He hadn’t even really looked. What did he have left? A forgotten YouTube channel – because it would be forgotten, if he left, soon enough -, professional baking experience, a couple good friends, and two years’ worth of memories.

He could be on a plane by tomorrow evening. He could go back to Manchester, live with his family or old friends, have it pour rain on him for no reason at all, work in a bookstore or video shop or something.

But Dan, Phil’s conscious nudged. He’d miss Dan, even more than he already did.

No, he couldn’t leave. He definitely couldn’t go. Because of – the bakery. It’d crush Ro, really.

Phil sighed, messing up his hair, which was already beyond saving.

~~^~~

It had been sickeningly quiet in the bakery, the next week. It had been a slow, slow week, one that would have been appreciated before the party. Ro and Phil still found it way more chaotic than they liked, but they did manage to take a moment to breathe every now and then. The mad rainstorm was over, and only grey puddles remained.

It had been the fifth day after the party, a Thursday. The weather was unusually overcast, providing some relief from the sun. September was here, everyone going back to school, and the bakery reduced to a morning and afternoon rush, instead of constant customer needs.

Dan hadn’t brought Phil coffee since he’d stormed out of the apartment that day. Phil didn’t know if Dan had even gone back to the apartment – he’d wasted no time packing his things and moving into Thomas’ old apartment above the shop.

He’d tried to film a solo video, but every time the camera turned on, he thought about the reactions that were sure to come from the fans. The video would be ignored for what it was, in favour of inquiries about Dan, and he had known he couldn’t deal with that right then.

So his camera stayed off, tucked in a cupboard, and Phil had thrown himself into the bakery for all it was worth.

Ro had tried to talk to him, but he didn’t want to think about it, so he’d told her he was fine and moved on to the next task.

On that Thursday, however, after the shop closed, she’d cornered him.

“Listen, this isn’t about what happened at the party!” she said, putting a hand up. His complaints died in his throat. “This is about who’s working here now.”

“Oh, you found someone?” Phil had said, a hint of excitement in his voice. “Who are they? What are they like?”

“His name’s Connor, Connor Franta,” Ro had smiled. “He’s really sweet, and he’s surprisingly really good at baking. I met him for an interview last night, and I think you guys will be friends.”

“That’s great, Ro,” Phil said sincerely. While he still felt crushed, the weight on his shoulders had lifted, if only a little.

“I’m getting my sister Molly to come in, too,” Ro added. “We could use the help, until we can get one more person. She’ll be in for work tomorrow.”

Phil wanted to tell Dan this. The one time they’d been apart for more than twelve hours, he’d almost exploded with things to say when they could talk again. Being away from the person he now considered his best friend really hurt.

Ro saw the change on his face, and reached out to touch his arm. “Phil-“

“I have to go,” he said. “That’s awesome news, Ro. I have to think.”

Blindly, he walked away from Ro, around a corner, and into the first available space – the storage closet. He slid down on the floor and put his face in his hands.

It was the pun of a name that attracted Phil first, and the people that made him stay.

He was a friend of a new acquaintance, a daunting puzzle quickly cracked.

There was no real starting point, he thought, looking back. Memories blurred in his mind as tears blurred in his eyes, moments coming back to him then to stare him in the face.

He regretted so many things, and had pride for so many more, but he had to go through everything again, if he ever wanted to make things right.

~~^~~  
“Phil? Phil, you need to come out of there. It’s been two hours!”

Phil sighed, and unfolded himself from where he’d been sitting, thinking. He didn’t know what to do, at all. Thinking it all over hurt. His legs had fallen asleep from where he’d crossed them, and he winced as he stood up.

Blinking tiredly, Phil walked into the clean, bright, familiar kitchen, and saw Ro pouring coffee from the big pot they kept for the customers. It was fresh, and the smell permeated the air, giving the kitchen a feeling of home.

Setting the two steaming mugs on the counter, Ro walked over and hugged Phil. Although she only reached up to his chest, she was warm and solid. Phil hugged back, feeling more affection for Ro than he had in forever.

They sat at the table, stirring their coffees, passing the sugar bowl back and forth, until Phil finally broke the silence.

“I’m sorry for ducking out,” he said. “You had to clean the kitchen alone.”

“It’s alright,” Ro said. “It’s been really hard on you! Working in a cupcake shop – it looks awesome, but sometimes people don’t really know how hard it is.”

“I’ve been here for a while.” Phil stated. “I should have handled it.”

“You’re a real trooper,” Ro smiled. “I like you, kid.”

“We’re literally the same age.”

“I put too much on you,” Ro said, “and I’m sorry.”

Phil grabbed her hand across the table and gave it a squeeze, and Ro smiled.

They sat in silence for a little while, before Ro spoke again.

“Do you want to talk about Dan?”

Phil looked away.

“I could probably Obi-Wan Kenobi my way through it,” Ro joked. “Like, super vague advice.”

“Go for it,” Phil said bitterly, cracking just a hint of a smile.

Ro adopted a mock-serious face. “Emotions, whether positive or negative, conduct the ebb and flow of the Force, Padawan-“

“Okay, fine. I’m angry. I’m just mad at myself for not stopping at the party. I didn’t have to kiss him, it was weird and it wasn’t right and I should have been in control of myself then.”

“Kissing a guy isn’t wrong, Phil.”

“That’s not it, of course it isn’t wrong, it’s just being with Dan that felt all wrong.”

He paused.

“I’m not in love, Ro! But I’m scared that he is!”

“There are different kinds of love, y’know,” she said, carefully and quietly. “You can love someone romantically, obviously. Or familial, like, um, your brother. But you can also love someone platonically. That’s more than a friendship, it’s like a really true, deep friendship. Platonic love. And there’s nothing wrong with loving someone platonically. Every different flavour of love is special.”

Phil was going to argue with her, but what she said really hit home.

She was right.

He grabbed two cupcakes from the display case on his way out. They were strawberry lemonade, each one adorned with strawberry and lemon candies, carefully grated lemon zest and a tiny straw in the icing. They were works of art, unspeakably delicious, and, he hoped, just the perfect thing for forgiveness.

Phil still had his key to the apartment - Dan hadn’t called, or made anyone else call, to get it back from him – but he knocked first anyway.

He had to tell Dan what Ro had just told him. Reaching out was the right thing to do – Ro had known the answer, and it might have been his only chance to save the friendship he and Dan had. Phil just hoped it wasn’t too late.

Dan opened the door, and saw Phil standing there, hair messy, apron still on, holding a little white box, his heart on his sleeve.

“Can I come in? Please?”

~~^~~

Summer had been over for a while, but the LA weather was just now getting the memo. It became cooler, gradually. Dan and Phil reveled in cozy sweaters, digging them out of closets and dressers from where they had been stashed in autumns past.

Videos resumed as normal, with nothing changed at all. A very full explanation was provided, most of it rambling into other topics, but the fans got the gist of it, and the party video went down as “the video that we don’t name.”

On the day Dil finally achieved his Sim dreams and reached the highest level of his career, Dan yelled so loudly in celebration that he received noise complaints from not one, but three of his neighbours. The easiest thing to do was for both boys to move above the shop, sharing one of the few apartments, next door to Ro and Molly, who would often yell back.

Business continued as normal too – there was never any problem. Phil continued to plug The Cupcakery in his videos whenever he could, and as the Dan and Phil channel got more subscribers, the bakery got more customers. Connor and Molly made a great addition to the team, Molly deciding to stay “because it’s more fun than working back east.” They came up with new flavours nearly every day, both creative people who were worth their weight in gold.

Phil, on the other hand, needed to know that Ro wouldn’t ever have to go through the pain of losing all her employees again. It only took a couple days for Ro to consider his idea, and before long, Phil was signing a hefty stack of papers for co-ownership of the bakery. Ro would always be his boss at heart, but she wouldn’t have to do it all herself, no matter what.

“Are you sure?” she’d asked. “You came here to work in a movie studio! I don’t want you to give up your dream!”

“I’m not giving up my dream,” Phil had said, and he meant it. “I’m making YouTube videos, aren’t I? That’s real editing! I like being my own boss – for that, anyway.”

Ro had still looked unconvinced.

“I love this place!” Phil smiled. “This is my dream now.”

As he filled out the last of the forms, Ro poked her head into the room.

“Phil!” she said happily, in a sing-song voice. “Our newest employee is here!”

“I’ll be right there!” Phil smiled, slipping on his apron.

The swinging doors opened on to the kitchen, and as Phil stepped through them, he felt familiar, comfortable, sure of himself, and really, truly happy – everything he’d ever wanted right there within his grasp.

The new guy stood in the kitchen, drumming his fingers on the countertop, face breaking into a smile when Phil entered.

“Hey, Dan,” Phil greeted. “Ready to learn how to bake?”

The End


End file.
